


baby, i was made to break your heart

by bunnyctzen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, basically this is self indulgent badass renjun agenda feeding content, blood and minor gore mentions (from fights), fight club themes, happy (belated) birthday jaemin!!!, maybe i'd just die for chuck palahniuk, minor violence throughout it's a fighting fic ok, nursing student jaemin, underground fighter renjun, wholesome soft nurturing jaemin uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 12:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyctzen/pseuds/bunnyctzen
Summary: in which renjun has an affinity for danger, jaemin cleans up his messes, and somehow they find a way to make it work.





	baby, i was made to break your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pastel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel/gifts).

> fornana forhara!!! our lovely hara, you always have such mind blowing ideas and i swear they make my head spin, you're such an inspiring peer to work with, and a wonderful friend!! i kind of took this and ran with it, and i really hope you love it as much as i loved writing it!!
> 
> my lifelong love affair with fight club and the daredevil netflix adaptation were to blame for this becoming what it did, but the world deserves a renjun that kicks ass and takes names ♡

thunder rumbled low through the city, and raindrops fell heavy on the windows and rooftops below. jaemin reveled in the sound like white noise as a backdrop to his late night cramming session—well, now _early morning_ cramming session, as the last time he checked, it was somewhere around half past two. 

unexpected, however, was a knock on his door. 

jaemin toed into the pair of slippers at his bedside and shuffled over to his front door, curious, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. with a yawn he unlocked it and pulled it open.

a dark hooded figure stood in front of him, hunched over, and avoiding his gaze. he remained silent, making no move to properly announce his presence. an eerie feeling washed over jaemin, and he tensed immediately—he certainly didn’t know what he was expecting, too tired to have even _considered_ danger. what reason did anyone have to be knocking on his door in the dead of night?

"can i help you?"

the boy crossed his arms over his body and looked up to meet his eyes. though his face was bruised, bloodied, and swollen, it was unmistakably familiar. in front of him stood the renjun he’d grown up with, and held through highs and lows, on his doorstep looking like he’d been dragged through hell and back.

before words came to him, jaemin's arms immediately enveloped his midnight visitor. he held him in a vice grip, in a way he later learned compressed renjun’s cracked rib. his clothes were drenched with rain and he winced when jaemin touched him, but at the very least, he was somewhere safe.

“christ, renjun, what happened?” jaemin's brain finally kicked into gear as he hurried the boy inside. 

he led renjun by the wrist to the bathroom, hoping to get a better look under the light. as renjun took a seat on the bathroom counter, jaemin was quick to grab his first aid kit to get to work on remedying what cuts and scrapes he could. concern flooded his thoughts as heavily as it did his actions.

"i got into a fight."

he pushed renjun's hood off of his head gently and began to assess the damage. there was a black eye so swollen that it had almost closed itself shut; a gash through his eyebrow above that had started bleeding into it. his lower lip had split, purpled the same shade as the bruises on his jaw and unshed tears lay in his eyes. 

jaemin had seen injuries far more severe than these through his med school studies, and yet, nausea rose from the pit of his stomach.

"injunnie, who did this to you? you look half dead." he asked, fingers gentle on his nose that surely ought to not look so crooked and deeply bruised. jaemin thinks it might need setting. “you need to report this to the police.”

"i started it. don't worry about it."

jaemin found a cloth to wet, and began to dab away at the blood that stained his skin. were renjun any other patient and not his friend, he would've held more restraint at the words, but jaemin absolutely can’t help himself from smacking the boy's shoulder. 

"you _started_ it? what were you _thinking_?”

renjun wasn't quick to answer; this surprised jaemin none. he'd never been one to offer information unless he saw it necessary, and it was clear that he felt no remorse for his actions. 

"if it’s any consolation, the other guy looks worse."

jaemin sighed and kept his words in, though if he was a little too liberal in his application of alcohol when it came to cleaning renjun’s wounds, well, he would say it was a fitting punishment.

at the end of it all, when he insisted renjun stay on his couch and get whatever rest he could during the hours until dawn, at least, jaemin found a way to say his piece. 

"don't make me do that again."

two weeks later, it was as if jaemin's warning meant nothing. he hadn't expected any less—after all, renjun had a history of living by his own rules. 

at least this time, he felt prepared for renjun’s next arrival in the dead of the night. 

barely healed from his first fight, it seemed renjun certainly hadn't learned. this time, though, his hands were notably worse off than the rest of him. knuckles split, bruised, and bloodied—the implication that renjun had gotten _better_ at fighting kind of horrified him. 

and still, jaemin faithfully patched him up, and made sure he had somewhere safe to sleep for the night. his fingers lingered as he worked, and his mind raced. the implications of renjun’s injuries burned in his thoughts—was he in danger? did he owe people money? was he getting in with the wrong crowds?

renjun had always been bright. even back in their high school years he was always top of his class, always someone who knew a little about nearly everything—someone that should've been smarter than this. known better. been less reckless.

questions lingered on the tip of jaemin’s tongue, but he bit them back.

at one point, when renjun showed up with a tooth in hand and one less in his jaw, blood and saliva smeared across his face, jaemin finally decided he'd had enough.

"what's been happening with you, injunnie?"

a long period of silence followed. jaemin had expected it. he looked for more supplies—what he kept on hand to use for training in med school didn't account for the fact that he'd actually have to be playing nurse so early in his career, and it'd kind of been a bitch to keep everything as stocked as he needed it. still, he persisted, and it bothered him little. he'd do anything for renjun. 

"i've been fighting."

jaemin's laugh was a little harsh, but given the situation, he forgave himself. of course renjun had been fighting; endless soiled gauze pads and stitches and bandages later, it showed no signs of stopping.

"you mean you haven't fallen down six flights of stairs like, eight times in two months?"

jaemin was fairly confident in his sutures now that he had a living, breathing patient to regularly practice them on. it wasn't a skill he should have honed so quickly, and yet, he wouldn't rather anyone else patch renjun up. the two of them had an unspoken understanding. 

"it's sort of a _thing_. lots of people do it."

jaemin felt satisfaction in pulling renjun's sutures extra tight as he tied them off. 

"like,” jaemin paused, trying to find his words. “_fight club_? that's actually a thing? in real life?"

"sort of?"

"and you're winning. right?"

"almost all of them."

it'd been obvious enough that his words were true— every week jaemin saw him, renjun’s injuries reflected his growing offensive technique. it seemed, too, that he’d figured out a way to avoid getting hit quite so often. jaemin grabbed renjun’s chin to tilt his face to all the angles he needed to see it in, and gave him the go-ahead. 

renjun was definitely resilient. 

at this point it was routine for jaemin to bring out bedding for the couch for renjun; he was insistent that the boy not try to make his own way home after the night he’d had, and especially considering the hour.

renjun knew that he'd never escape jaemin's apartment with his life if he tried to deny the offer, so as always, he settled himself onto the sofa. jaemin draped the soft fabric over him and tucked him in, ignoring the fact that it was a little too intimate. it felt right. 

"hey, brad pitt?"

"mm?"

"you're not getting your tooth back. i'm not a dentist."

renjun’s laughter tugged at jaemin's heart strings.

before slumber pulled too deeply at the corners of his mind, jaemin acted on his own idiotic impulse. enough time passed that he wondered if renjun was even still awake, but he figured it was worth a shot. 

“can i come see you fight next time?”

moments passed in silence, but finally jaemin heard a faint reply.

“sure, why not.”

jaemin was fairly shocked that renjun indulged his request. 

in fact, he was almost grateful that his late night summons had been at a more reasonable hour than the one which renjun seemed to appear at like clockwork. 

_before the fun had even started_, renjun assured him. the night was still young.

rather than in full _palahniuk_ fashion, renjun's crowd gathered in a warehouse at the edge of town, out by the industrial district where they were less likely to draw unwanted attention. not that it was _illegal_ to be doing what they did, but that it was enough of a gray area that caution never hurt. 

jaemin was impressed that they’d managed to find themselves an actual boxing ring for their fights, rather than having it out on the concrete. 

he noticed a lot about the people around him as he followed renjun in. men and women from all walks of life, all sharing the same look in their eyes. focus, passion, and a healthy dose of chaos. he saw it in renjun, too, something just a little unsettling. a lack of fear for whatever the world threw at him. a thirst for danger. a yearning to push and push and _push_, until the only limitations were what his body could handle. a mindset that urged you aren't having fun until your life's at stake.

he'd always known renjun to be a little off-kilter, he supposed. this really wasn't new.

it turned out the fights weren't really something that bothered jaemin to see. in fact, it was kind of fascinating; the loud cries from bystanders at the rise and fall of those fated to the ring. some fought brutal and bloody, while others more technically inclined fought with carefully planned grace.

he was quick to learn that only fools assumed they could call a fight before it'd even started—women who couldn't weigh in more than a buck fifteen soaking wet often took down men triple their size by attacking them while their defenses were down. it was a hell of a lot more interesting than that scripted televised fluff. more lively. real, imperfect, and uncensored. raw. 

jaemin had brought a gift as a means of wishing renjun luck—something of his for renjun to take into the ring, so that jaemin would be with him.

he spread renjun's fingers and wrapped them with fresh tape, winding it between each digit and around the back of his hand with utmost care and attention to detail. even here it felt as intimate as when they two of them sat alone in his apartment, jaemin washing renjun’s wounds by the light above his bathroom mirror. the audience bothered him very little. 

he tucked the last of the fabric down snug into renjun's wrist and squeezed his fist around it, holding onto it for a moment. emotions passed through renjun's eyes like rolls of film—vulnerability, reverence, and pride. determination.

“i always fight last,” renjun had said. “i want to take out the toughest guy in the room. i want to be remembered.” 

and so they took their time, studying the competition, noting those who tapped out and those who begged for more as they spat out blood. figuring out what made them tick, and what made them stumble. they waited until the crowd had started to thin and former participants lined the outer perimeter—those who were done fighting, but certainly couldn't miss the main event. 

then and only then did renjun nod at jaemin. this was it.

jaemin squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before he sent renjun into the ring. his opponent was easily recognizable after a night of watching the prizefighters claim dominance over the ring—this particular man won every fight jaemin saw him in, and his opponents were as full of regret as they were injury after their match. 

he was a beast of a thing—a man with biceps that rivaled the width of renjun's head and a look in his eye that promised he feared no god or man. they knocked fists in greeting and renjun held his gaze with as much fire—the only mercy he would show him for the rest of the night. 

pressed right up to the ropes to see for himself, jaemin was nothing short of absolutely _mesmerized_ watching renjun at work. quick as a whip, he knew exactly where to target, and when to escape about three hits for every one he received. what he lacked in size and brute strength, renjun made up for with forceful precise blows. he was sharp and lethal, so quick on his feet that his opponents always fell two steps behind his next move. 

in a matter of minutes, renjun had the man down on his knees. he was sporting a few good hits of his own that jaemin swore he'd almost allowed him to get in, but renjun was in his element. 

knees as sharp as knives and fists that knew their path, a final few blows had the absolute bear of a man, previously grandiose and fearsome, winded on the ground and ready to tap out as renjun pressed his heel into his trachea. 

the roar of the crowd was deafening.

after the fight, back at jaemin’s apartment, after he unwrapped renjun's fingers and massaged them to rid his joints of their knots, after he cleaned his wounds and iced his neck, jaemin finally decided he got it. 

he understood why renjun went and took a beating every week. why he honed his skill to make sure he couldn't be bested. 

the glory was addicting. the satisfaction. the absolute magic of it all. 

renjun never did anything less than a hundred percent. he was never satisfied—he always kept pushing, and it made him a terrifying adversary. 

some months later, jaemin was unsurprised to find out that someone had scouted renjun at a fight. they’d seen potential for him to become something bigger. better. 

someone knew that the rest of the world needed to see huang renjun. 

and immediately, jaemin knew he had to be a part of it. he had to follow him along every step of the way. to wrap his fingers, to study the competition and tell renjun every weak spot he noticed. to help him practice, to learn the skills of the trade in as much detail as he could, so he could help turn renjun into the best he could possibly be.

they were a package deal. wherever renjun went, jaemin followed. 

jaemin read over renjun's contract before he signed it. signed one of his own; though he had no skill as a fighter on his own, his connection with him ran deep. he understood what tore renjun apart and put him back together, where he fell short and where he excelled. in times jaemin could spare between his course load, he filled in to coach renjun along with his personal trainers. 

the training that followed was grueling. renjun dieted and worked from dawn to dusk, honing his skill and turning his body into a weapon. he took mixed martial arts lessons, and began to rise up the ranks. all the while, jaemin stayed by him, like he had from the very start and as he vowed to until the end. 

the time came for renjun's first televised event. renjun was rarely one to get stage fright, but it was obvious that something about this new situation had managed to get under his skin. the tension backstage was palpable. fighting in the warehouse with an audience of only his competitors was a vastly different stage than having his every move televised live for the world to see. he'd already filmed his promo tapes and been in photo shoots in preparation, but the main event, now that it had arrived, felt like an entirely different beast. gone were the days of fighting underground, in the comfort of his home turf. the world was about to meet huang renjun; _really_ meet him. 

jaemin knew he'd be hard to forget.

as he worked out a few last knots in renjun’s shoulders, jaemin found that he was at peace with sending renjun on his way. he was ready to let the world see his eyes that glowed like embers, his body that moved like the wind, the fists that always found their home. 

well. nearly ready. just as renjun was called for his thirty second warning, jaemin caught his wrist, and pulled him back to face him. took a brave step of his own and took hold of renjun's jaw, placed a gentle kiss on his lips. it lingered, full of every bit of emotion he'd ever felt for him in all their years together. a promise of a future full of anything renjun ever wanted; if anyone could do it, it'd be the two of them. 

if renjun looked stunned by the ordeal, he'd never in his life admit it later down the road. 

"don't let them forget who you are for a second, huang renjun. you were made for this."

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAA now that this finally isn’t anonymous i really want to give endless thanks to mandu, hara, and felix for putting on such a lovely fic exchange!!! all of you are so endlessly talented, and i’m really lucky to call u all my friends!!
> 
> (i know it was really obvious thank u for pretending to be shocked)
> 
> also now i get to plug my twt jfskdj so yell at me over at @xingowo on twt and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/xingowo)!! ♡


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